Shamrock
by Stradivari
Summary: Not every game is black and white. And chess is a game of war which has no patriots. A game of life and inevitably, sacrifices.


**S H A M R O C K**

_**-Stradivari-**_

**:i:**

_He was in a garden. The air was fresh and smelt like petals in water. It brought back a distant memory, floating, just out of reach. **Where had he smelt that scent before?**_

_He was sitting in a Chinese structure of some kind, wooden and octagon shaped, it had no walls but eight pillars supporting a flat, cone-shaped roof. There was a sparrow perched on one of the rafters. Wooden benches lined the perimeter and steps led up from a slightly sloping ground. A tree with pale pink blossoms draped itself over the lip of the roof with branches like a weeping willow's. _

_Fallen petals swept the ground like a carpet of pastel coloured feathers. The atmosphere had a certain calmness to it and Artemis simply at on a bench, thinking about nothing in particular, which was a surprise in itself-his thoughts usually revolved around a theme. But on this occasion, he felt uncharacteristically relaxed, as if the calm, carefree state was somehow drug induced. Usually, the mere thought of sabotage should be sending him jumping to his feet…but no. To do so would have meant disturbing the perfect content in his surroundings. And he wasn't to do that under any circumstances. It was a silent and unspoken rule._

_Something caught his eye; a glitter of gold, like the glitter which attracts keas and other such birds. It was there, half hidden by its cloak somewhere at the base of the tree. Hesitantly, Artemis stood and walked across the wooden floor, down the stone steps and across the garden. His feet made no sound as he stepped on the petal strewn ground. _

_Crouching to his knees, he pulled the object from under its cover. It was a small, golden key, resting on the V of a chain. Beside it, was a huge egg like diamond. A sapphire blue diamond._

_Artemis stared at it in surprise. It was the Fei Fei Diamond; he had given it to his mother all those years ago. He straightened, the world suddenly spinning, everything a swirl of colours. But completely silent and only he was still. _

"Arty?"

_Artemis turned. His Mother stood, one hand resting on the banister ringing the seats. His throat was dry, but he opened his mouth to speak._

"_Yes Mother?"_

_A voice spoke for him. A familiar voice. He spun around. Standing not two feet away was Artemis. His own eyes widened. A time paradox? The figure resembled his younger self, and he studied the features like a mirror image with rather more composure than he would have expected from himself in such circumstances. The younger Artemis acted as though he wasn't there, looking upwards towards his Mother. She looked…younger than Artemis remembered her, but just as beautiful. She spoke again, descending the steps barefoot._

"_Are you alright darling?" her voice trembled slightly. _

_His replica answered without hesitation. "I am fine Mother. Have you eaten lunch yet?"_

_Angeline sighed wearily. The sound tore at him in a way a gale could not. "No, Arty. I have no appetite. Tell Juliet I won't be coming down for dinner tonight."_

_This time, there was hesitation in his face. "Mother...perhaps you should eat…it's been days, I could bring something up to-" Angeline Fowl glared at him. "No. I don't want anybody coming into my room, do you hear? No one." _

_Artemis swallowed. "Yes Mother."_

_Without warning, she swooped down upon her son, past Artemis as if she could not see him. Her dress spread, water like around her, a splendid flowering fountain of lilies. Her fingers were white and claw-like on his shoulder. The younger Artemis imply stood there, neither shocked nor pleased, arms limp by his sides. His Mother's voice cut through the air like a whip, though she was whispering fairy tales into his childhood's ear. Artemis was rooted to the ground, unable to step forwards or to flee. He could literally feel her words, snakelike around his neck, slithering and cold on his cheeks, into his ears-_

_He fought to keep his eyes open, fought to keep the words from his mind, yelling, his hands over his ears, prayed for music to drown out her cries of terror-_

_She stood up, her hand already turning the handle of the double doors. They creaked into the shadows beyond. Angeline looked back over her shoulder as she slipped through the opening. Artemis didn't move. He didn't fight. He stood there, stoic and calm, the epitome of-_Go after her, why don't you- _she closed the door and her face disappeared with the light._

_It was not completely dark, a soft glow shone like candlelight across the white snow, except that the light itself was cold. He clung to the metal railing, imagining his shadow that would have fallen across the steel had there been sunlight. He looked up, and his Father looked back at him, not a meter away, yet so far he could not make out his features. There was an echo of a sweet taste on his tongue, yet his voice came out dry._

"_Father?" _

_His Father waved a smile at the edge of his eyes. "I'll see you soon, Arty, Angeline." Something sounded in the distance, and he could hear the call of sea birds above him. Yet the sky was too dark to hold life. Artemis called out to the figure on the fast receding ship. "Father!"_

_Fowl Senior merely smiled at his son and gave another regal wave. He did not answer. Artemis felt desperation well up inside his chest, wind icy like bees against his face. No! It was his Father, he wouldn't, he-_

"_Father!"_

_He saw him nod, just once. And Butler fired the shot. _

_It sent him spiraling into the depths of some black blue brilliance, the reality of the situation somehow obliterating through the logic that this would not happen, that if he had been in his Father's place, he would not have taken such a risk…yet he still fell, and the shot still rang loud and clear in his ears. His feet touched earth._

_Artemis stared into the depths of the diamond, its deepness not unlike a glow cube he had seen somewhere. It was like looking into his Father's eyes…or his own. **To give you strength.** It was strange then, as his own words echoed back, his own voice, from such a long time ago. It was as if someone had spoken, someone, standing right beside him in his own dream. Of course it was a dream. He knew, even then._

"_It is, you know."_

_The Artemis in front of him spoke again, his voice soft and clipped._

"_Well, it is. It should do much more for you. I must say, however, I'm quite disappointed."_

_Artemis was suitably confused by this collection of sentences; he could not make any sense of it._

"_Disappointed?" Only a mind such as his could stay sane under these conditions. The figure in front of him sat, cross legged on the ground, steepling his fingers. He could see a rim of earth where the petals had been brushed away. _

"_Oh yes," the boy replied pleasantly, "After all, you have been acting very childishly lately. Honestly, I'm embarrassed. Your emotions have grown quite out of hand."_

_With any other person, Artemis would have retaliated. But not this time. Being reprimanded by your younger self is quite an experience. It has frozen the tongues of lesser minds, if not greater. He clasped the diamond, looking down on himself. **Down on himself. **He was intelligent enough to realize the implications of this note. Whoever was controlling his subconscious would need a severe talking to. He must remember to get Butler to speak to him._

_His twelve-year-old self coughed in the most patronizing way. Artemis looked back and saw, laid out upon the ground was a chess board. The chess boards itself was rather unremarkable; polished wood, the black squares were marked with shiny brass. It was the pieces themselves that caught this attention. They were life like figures. _

_He said too, slowly opposite himself, eyes flickering over each figure as they came into recognition. The younger Artemis lifted an elegant hand._

"_You are white. Please commence."_

_Artemis frowned slightly, with the sudden urge to tip the whole board over. Then the moment passed, and he let his finger hover over the rows before directing a pawn into the center of the board. The younger Artemis smiled a catlike smile._

"_How very inventive." And moved his knight._

_Artemis lent close to see the figures face but it was hidden behind a visor. He turned back to his own pieces, quickly selecting his own knight. Then stopped. His knight. It was female, a girl with braided hair. Juliet?_

_His fingers hesitated before calling the command. The girl advanced with lithe steps upon her horse, a white mare. _

_A petal brushed his shoulder as his younger-self moved a pawn also; an insignificant figure, short and…with pointed ears? Artemis called forth a pawn of his own and it was soon a blur of fingers and moving pieces. Their steps rang out on the squares with each step commanded by their king._

_With sly, genius cunning, the young Artemis sent out his bishop to hold his knight at gunpoint. There was a resounding click as the gun was cocked. _

_Artemis ran a tongue over his lips and moved the rook, to promise deadly revenge if the bishop dared to pull the trigger. His rook was tall, bulky and mountainous. He had no doubts who it represented. His twelve year old mirror image tutted annoyingly. _

"_Now really. This is rather foolish." Their eyes met. "Sometimes…it's worse like this you know." _

_He waved a hand through the air. "It hurts more. And it is probably your greatest weakness…"_

_The hand closed on the bishop and with a resounding bang, the girl fell in a limp heap upon her square. Artemis's eyes flared and he reached for her, but his younger self snatched the piece away. He laid it on the edge of the board, smiling a predators' smile. Artemis composed himself. This was no time for pointless anger._

"_You can't take her back you know," he said quietly. It was calm but cold. "But what matter, Artemis? Chess is like life hmm?" He looked like a casual player, an amateur with nothing to lose and everything to gain. "A game of … sacrifices."_

_Artemis ignored him sufficiently to call on a savage but measured retaliation of his rook, which dealt the offending bishop a fatal blow and not once leaving his square. Artemis laid the slain bishop likewise onto the edge of the board. A single black against the white. The younger Artemis regarded this with poise and his hand flickered once, moving his knight into the fray. _

_He tutted again. _"_Really. This is exactly what I mean. Such passion is unnecessary; this is war you know, and you are no patriot."_

_Artemis glared at him. His character was simply so dislikable, he wondered briefly how anyone could stand this person, sitting so smugly in front of him. Then he remembered it was actually himself. It was strange how the world viewed you in such prejudice. Already his judgment had changed. _

_For a while, the game proceeded without speech. It was undoubtedly the hardest game Artemis himself had ever played. By playing yourself, you can not, against the popular belief, predict your own actions. Every move, every tactical advance or retreat had an underlying purpose. And under every purpose, a thousand more waited, unseen and dangerous. _

_It was past slyness and cunning. It was a mental battle, one which was slipping into a strange and diverse dimension._

_Suddenly a rook and knight drew out their silenced pistols. Their barrels glinted like pulsating fire above the brass squares. They were threatening his bishop, a man in a tailored leather overcoat and…Artemis stared at the figure. The man lacked a leg from below the knee. **His Father…**_

_His eyes flitted like a bird's over his pieces. One of his rooks was lying bloody at the boarder edge. It was a terrible loss, and it had been killed by a pawn-a mere pawn!-with a hand grenade the size of a large harpoon gun. The pawn had only been that, a pawn. A simple arranged shot that had come into coincidence with a diversion with his other knight. Coincidence…he hated himself for it. The chessboard was now stained with blood._

_The young Artemis smiled a vampiric smile, toying with the slain knight._

"_Oh **dear**." He surveyed the board like an emperor looking over his courtiers. _

"_Really, Artemis." He continued, eyes glinting "Are you losing concentration? Your game, so to speak, is really slipping."_

_Artemis tried to keep out his voice. His own voice. _

_On all accounts, he couldn't have saved the rook in anyway. He already checked, though it brought no consolation that the short figure had been lost. He had been blind to the attack, over the chaos of the thousands of separate fragments of military assault around them. They shone, bright and magnetic, drowning out the simple beauty. And now, he was about to lose his Father again._

_He ran a desperate list through his mind. He couldn't retreat the bishop as there was a black night and three pawns paced at strategic points. He was trapped. And he couldn't believe it._

"_Give him up. You can't save that piece."_

_Artemis ignored him yet again, and the childish fear that rose, unbidden inside his chest, searching for a way to explode. The other bishop? Knight? No…that won't do at all. It would disrupt the entire plan._

_**Stick to the plan…stick to the plan. No emotion.**_

_Queen? There must be a way…there was always a way…Artemis gazed hard the pieces as if the sheer concentration of will would kill them each in turn._

"_Give him up."_

_Artemis looked at his younger self in the eye, his own eyes brimming with hatred and hurt._

"_No."_

"_Give him up. There is no hope. There has to be sacrifices."_

"_No!" _

_The knight struck. The young boy flicked the piece over with a forefinger, and the action seemed to hurt him for he winced, just under the surface, just under his mask. Artemis's face was white with rage; at the back of his mind, a counter strategy was growing like the webs of a spider, but fury was the enemy, obliterating everything, every sense that resided in his mind._

_**Concentrate…concentrate!**_

_The young Fowl let his finger hover over his pieces, looking for all the world like a child picking out a chocolate éclair. He made his choice, a deft movement of thumb and forefinger, leaning forwards across the chess board, fingers clasped like the bars of a prison cell._

_He was now moving in the defensive. So busy was he, guarding all pieces, he could not attack the opponent. It was a player's worst nightmare, being forced back on one's troops, not retreating but not advancing either. Stalemate, if you like. _

_His gaze locked on a black, oddly vague looking figure, its edges smudging into the background as if they were wearing a badly shorted out cam foil. On closer inspection however, the figure was not wearing the folding sheet of cam foil but shimmering, like the heat or evaporation. The only defined features were the eyes. **Large, slanting hazel eyes.**_

_Something choked in his throat as their eyes met._

"_Holly?"_

_His voice sounded oddly hoarse. With a frantic movement, Artemis took his remaining knight back to guard his bishop, which he deemed as the target of the black clothed knight. The target of Holly._

_His eyes moved back to the bishop on her square, which was now at eye level. Strange._

_She was an elegant individual, with long waving hair and a willowy figure. Her small bare feet was barely visible beneath her flowing dress, which was light, and as thin as gossamer._

"_What are you going to do when you lose her too, Artemis?"_

_The voice was feminine. It was definitely not his own, younger by years or not. He looked up at the player in front of him and found it wasn't the darkly suited individual sitting there a moment before but-_

"_Holly!" **Large, slanting hazel eyes. **He blinked once, and she was gone. In her place, his childhood laughed at him silently, calmly, sill cross legged as if nothing had happened. He looked up at him then a smile playing coyly at the edge of his lips._

"_Now, Mister Fowl, why don't you sit down and note the move I just made so we can continue this delightful game? I'm being rather courteous here. It might have taken you a while to notice."_

_Artemis suppressed the urge to pass a comment, but the remark stung and he followed the pale fingers that grasped the figure, limp in a pool of black ivory. There was not blood to show death, not a single bang of hiss of a pistol. But the square was now occupied with that shimmering haze, and his mother was gone._

"_Give her back." _

_He was well aware of the absurdity of this comment, but he said it anyway and felt confusion at this emotion. But the current situation obliterated all else in his subconscious yet again, and the landscape changed._

_It seemed to be suddenly under water, swirling in a paint pellet of colours, their strong metallic scent striking in their sharp brightness then withdrawing like snakes dancing the air before its charmer. There was no noise except their own breathing and the footsteps of the pieces upon the board. _

_The figure in front of him was cold, eyes mocking, laughing without a sound. He still held the limp white bishop in the palm of his hand. The fingers closed around it._

"_She's mine now."_

_**She's gone. Concentrate on the game, what is wrong with you? Concentrate you fool!**_

"_It's much more interesting when it is people you know that you are sacrificing, isn't it? Makes it much more fun."_

_Artemis' face was blank and static. His heart was stretched taut with tension. Was this the truth speaking?_

_The queen lifted her head, long dark hair contrasting against the whiteness of her robe-like dress. Sandaled feet stepped once, moving to the next bronze square, passing the pools of blood that stained the rim of her dress. Her movements were fluid, each step a soft tap on the ground._

_Thin and intricate, a silver crown rested on her head, with not adornments of jewels, simply small life like leaves made from thing beaten gold._

"_What are you going to do Artemis? What genius concoction have you devised?"_

_**Don't mock me. Be quiet. **_

_There was a white bone quiver slung across her back, the arrows' swan feathers brushing against her black hair. She continued to walk towards the scattering of black clothed figures, slow, elegantly as if she was dancing the serebande upon a parquet dance floor. _

_Her feet spun light on the dark squares, magnetic and mesmerizing. _

_The swirling of colours stopped, suddenly leaving everything frozen like figures in a painting. All the pieces were still except for the queen in front of him who was walking towards the figure in the near distance. Black garbed individuals seemed to part as she came past, a white light in the midst of shadows, though nothing moved._

_There was something heavy, weighing down on his head. Artemis caught his own reflection in the brass square set into the floor around a meter in length and width. He had a crown. He was the King._

_Something flew through the air, the queen turned to face the black king on the other end of the board. In the same flowing movements, she plucked out an arrow, lifting her curved bow in a flash of gold. Her hair swept pas her face for a second, and a glinting smile lit in her eyes. It seemed to penetrate everything, a contracting of a pupil, the rush of beating wings against his face until he was halted, suspended in the sudden realization-_

"_NO!"_

_Her arm pulled back and let loose the bow string with silent deadliness. The arrow found its mark. The black king-the younger Artemis-clutched at his throat, the red of blood trickling like tears between his fingers, still barely visible. Slowly, slowly, he bowed his head, raven hair hiding his features. His crown fell to the floor balancing on each point of the circle before coming to rest, still, and silent as death._

_**I am Artemis the hunter….**_

_It was not by words. Words meant nothing. He stared into her face, the rest of the world falling away in a distant roar of sounds and colours. Her voice was sharp, cold and beautiful, a choir of voices concentrated in a glass sphere. Artemis could see the bubbles themselves, each radiating light through the dark water, leaving trails of soft echoing sounds as they sped towards the surface._

_It gave one the illusion that they were falling…_

_It was rather her thoughts that echoed, like the last syllables of a song in a cathedral, the choir no longer standing glorious in their stalls and the light no longer shining through the magnificent stained glass window; but the voices still rang, soft and haunting. Like a memory that was lost in one's own head. _

_It rang in his ears, laughing with beautiful, light malicious joy. Two last syllables as his vision blurred, brushstrokes of light upon canvas. _

"_Check mate**"**_

**:i:**

**Author's Note: This is the edited version, after I went through and re-wrote part of it. The concept/theme has also been tweaked.**

**I realize the concept itself is not actually that new…but I really hope I've managed a good one shot. As you might have noticed (Or if you haven't I'm telling you now,) there were Three Artemis in the dream. One was the present day Artemis (actually, it's not. Refer to Blood Sonata) the second as the twelve year old Artemis (his ****『****childhood'. Honestly, I was running out of alternatives there for his name…) The third, was the White ****『****Queen'. You might have picked it up on the bow and arrows bit. That's why it's called 'Shamrock'.**


End file.
